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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29270385">what's meant to be will always find a way</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/spaceclarke/pseuds/spaceclarke'>spaceclarke</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The 100 (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Eventual Smut, F/M, Kid Fic, Slow Burn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 14:14:30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,468</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29270385</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/spaceclarke/pseuds/spaceclarke</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A Life as We Know It Bellarke AU</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>what's meant to be will always find a way</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Haven't wrote fic in sooo long. Weekly chapters.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Glancing at the art gallery through the office window, Clarke can't help but smile. There's still a lot to do before they launch in just a few days, but the place is turning out to be everything Clarke had imagined it to be. White walls. Tall glass windows. Light wooden floors. Art from local artists splashed across the walls.</p><p>“You know there’s nothing else to do tonight, right?” Lincoln says as he enters the office.</p><p>Clarke first met Lincoln four years ago when she attended one of his public art classes and he quickly became apart of her friend group--even dating Octavia for a short while in the beginning. It was around a year ago, with a whole lot of alcohol in their systems, that they decided to partner up and open up their own art gallery together. Their vision of giving struggling local artists a platform to showcase their work came with a load of obstacles. Not only did they have to find a suitable space, reach out to local artists, decorate, apply for a license but their bank accounts had almost dried up as a result of all the costs. Safe to say opening up a business wasn’t as easy as they had originally thought, but nevertheless, here they are, about to <em>finally</em> launch.</p><p>“I’m just gonna go through the schedule one more time,” Clarke says as she rounds her desk and takes a seat. “Everything has to be perfect.”</p><p>He laughs, leaning against the doorframe. “Everything <em>will</em> be perfect."</p><p>“Please,” her voice softer. “Can we just-” she lifts up the schedule. “Once more.”</p><p>He relents, nodding--and so they go through it once more, confirming when the caterers are coming, when the final two art pieces are being delivered and where they’ll showcase them, and at what time the VIP guests will begin filtering through the gallery’s tall glass doors. Not only does she want this to go well but she also wants to prove to her mom that she can do this - <em>without</em> her help. She’s moved onto double--triple checking the guest list when her eyes fall on --</p><p>
  <span class="u">
    <strong>Bellamy Blake VIP Guest </strong>
  </span>
</p><p>-- she hasn’t seen or spoken to Bellamy since Madi was born and even then, they never said more than a few words to each other. Things between them have been <em>strained</em> for a better word. It’s not that Clarke dislikes him, hell, they used to be best friends, <em>inseparable</em> even--but then they tried dating about a year ago, and well, things went south pretty fast after that. She hadn’t been sure if she should have even invited him, but Octavia had insisted that he’d want to come, that he’d want to support her, and then to her surprise, his RSVP came almost immediately.</p><p>“Are you sure you don’t want to showcase any of your pieces?” Lincoln interrupts, pulling her out of her thoughts. “I think this one would complement the other art pieces that we will be showing.” He holds up a picture of one of her earlier pieces, a painting of the view from her dad's hospital room.</p><p>The busy road, a drastic contrast to the calm quiet backdrop of nature. It's ironic, Clarke thinks. A busy road shouldn't interrupt the tranquility of nature just like cancer shouldn't ruin lives. But it does, it <em>did</em>.</p><p>“No.” She reaches for the piece out of his hand and places it in her drawer, safely. Even if she was willing to share any of her work with the world, which she isn’t, that one is just <em>too</em> personal. “I’m not ready.”</p><p>Lincoln doesn’t push her on the matter, instead, he asks, “Shouldn’t you be at game night with the girls?”</p><p>“Yeah, but not until seven.” She presses the home button on her phone on the desk and the screen lights up with the time and, “<em>Shit</em>.” She grabs her bag and keys then heads for the door. "See you tomorrow!"</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, guys,” Clarke yells as she heads straight for the fridge to grab a beer.</p><p>"Look who finally decided to join the party,” Raven yells back.</p><p>“I would say I hit traffic but you’d know I’d be lying.” She pops the top of her beer bottle off then rounds the counter, entering the living room. It's an open plan apartment she and Raven share. Being able to walk into the kitchen without having to leave the living room is what sold it for Clarke but for Raven, it was for sure the strong Wi-Fi connection that she was able to hack into from the bar Gina's below.</p><p>“Here you can take my place,” Octavia passes Clarke her controller. “Ilian’s on his way back from work so he’s gonna pick me up.”</p><p>“You’re leaving already?” Clarke pouts. “It’s only eight.”</p><p>“Well, if you had got here on time,” Octavia teases.</p><p>“Touche.” Clarke flops down in the space Octavia just vacated.</p><p>“Give that beautiful little baby girl a kiss from me when you get home,” Luna says from her spot on the floor.</p><p>“Who says I'm going home?” Octavia winks.</p><p>Raven snorts.</p><p>“Hey! I have a six-month-old baby at home… this is like the only alone time we’re gonna get and besides Bellamy's watching Madi so we might even be able to grab a hotel room for a few hours.”</p><p>“I’m never having kids. I value my sex life too much.” Raven deadpans.</p><p>“Someone should have warned me.” </p><p>It takes a moment for the others to register what Luna said. “Hold up,” Octavia stops in the middle of shrugging her jacket on.</p><p>“Are you-”</p><p>“Pregnant? I am,” she smiles and then, “But Lincoln doesn’t know yet so keep it on the down-low for now please.”</p><p>“Oh my god,” Clarke exclaims, leaning down to wrap her arms around her friend. Mario Kart long-forgotten. “How far along?”</p><p>“According to this conception calendar I found online, six weeks.”</p><p>“And you’re happy about this?” Raven asks just in case, but Luna smiles and nods. “Then I guess congratulations."</p><p>“To baby Flou-Woods!” Clarke adds, picking up her beer for a toast.</p><p>"To baby Flou-Woods," everyone says as they clank each other's glasses and bottles.</p><p>"Was it planned?" Raven asks as the same time octavia asks, "Are you excited?</p><p>luna laughs, rubbing her hand across her stomach. "No and yes. We didn't plan it necessarily although we wrern't being that careful either. Yes, I am excited." </p><p>"I can't wait for Madi to have a little friend to play with." A horn sounds from outside at the same time Octavia's phone chimes. "That'll be Ilian," she announces. "I'll see you girls next week?"</p><p>“Saturday," Clarke corrects, picking up the remote to resume the game against Luna.</p><p>"For the gallery's launch night," Luna reminds her. "It's all Lincoln can talk about." She laughs then adds, "I'm waiting until after the launch to tell Lincoln.". "</p><p>Yeah, course." Her phone chimes again. "I better go," she throws her bag over her shoulder, "If any of you see Bellamy, I was here all night--I might have even passed out until morning."</p><p>"We got you, girl," Raven says. "now go get some."</p><p>Three more rounds of Mario Kart and a whole load of alcohol later, girls' night takes on a more serious topic. "I'm thinking about getting a second job," Clarke sighs.</p><p>"You're still worried about money?" Luna asks as she returns from the bathroom.</p><p>"I have three hundred dollars left in my checking account. And it's going to be at least a couple of months before the gallery starts making a profit instead of a loss."</p><p>“Girl, maybe it’s time to reconsider using your trust fund,” Raven says, grabbing a slice of pizza from the box.</p><p>Clarke sighs. “I wanted to do this on my own, you know? I wanted to do it without my mom’s help, you know? Prove to her that I don't need her.”</p><p>“And that makes sense,” Luna chimes in, taking a sip of her iced water.</p><p>“But?” Clarke prompts.</p><p>“There's no harm in asking for help."</p><p>“Luna’s right."</p><p>"Maybe," Clarke contemplates.</p><p>"One more game?" Raven asks.</p><p>"You guys go ahead, I'm just gonna close my eyes for a second," Luna says and less than a minute later, she's asleep.</p><p>***</p><p>The phone call comes at around eleven by which time Raven is passed out on the chair, Luna now splayed across the sofa asleep and Clarke’s on the other chair with her legs slumped over the edge.</p><p>“Mom," she groans groggily. "I told you I’m not going to that luncheon tomorrow.”</p><p>“Clarke,” her mom starts. “You need to come down to the hospital right now.”</p><p>“Why?” She sits up and looks at the time on her phone--it’s after midnight. “What’s <em>happened</em>? Are you okay?”</p><p>“I’m fine.” And then, after a beat, “Octavia and Ilian were in an accident.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Chapter 2 preview:</p><p>They stay like that--Bellamy on the floor with his face in his hands and Clarke wrapped around him, almost shielding him for god knows how long. But then Clarke glances at Madi who’s still surprisingly sound asleep and--</p><p> </p><p>Oh god, Madi.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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